Story: Lurline Queen and Kumbric Witch (all chapters)

Some stories get told and retold, but never get rightly said in the telling and re-telling.

This story’s been told and retold–in both cases by men. Why men think they can tell a story about witches and houses and shoes I’ll never understand. But their versions have gone on long enough and spread far enough, and it’s time a woman told the story–a woman who’s a witch and knows which is which in this story about witches.

And this is a story about witches–about two witches in particular: one called good and the other called wicked. And while much has been said about these witches, what people don’t know from the stories men have told is that these two witches loved one another, and their love was good and their love was wicked.

So let me start again, in the way all stories start, in that once upon a time…

~~~~~

Once upon a time, in a faraway universe, a world was born in the way that most worlds are born: that is, from the conflict and strife between gods and beasts. Legends tell of a Dragon of Time and a Unicorn of Space, and the war they fought for reasons long lost. Eons passed and constellations withered as the Dragon and the Unicorn danced their lethal dance–until, at last, in a final cataclysmic charge, they rushed at each other, Unicorn horn against Dragon fire. In the energies unleashed by the violence of their deaths, a world was born and a gate was born. The world was named Oz. The gate had no name.

Oz had no people; at least not at first. Its native races were sentient beasts–“Animals” that could think and talk and ponder and dream. But the nameless gate was a celestial door, and it opened at times and seasons beyond the Animals’ ken. From these openings came the eventual peoples of Oz: the Gillikinese, the Munchkins, the Quadlings, the Winkies; all of them alien races blown into the land of Beasts.

But not all that came through the Gate were good to Oz or good for Oz. Legends spoke of dreadful monsters and demonic beings and other creatures too horrendous for words. During these times, when the Gate brought evil, the founding spirits of Oz would reawaken to protect their world. That is, the Dragon and the Unicorn would return to Oz in forms unknown, and battle the menace until the danger had passed.

As time passed and Oz grew older, so did the legend of the Avatars of the Beasts. During darkling ages, the races of Oz knew to expect the return of the Dragon and the return of the Unicorn.  But as in any world, beings will arise that crave power at any cost, and in Oz, these beings sought to exploit the powers of the Avatars at the times that they emerged.  To protect the Avatars and the future of Oz, a race of guardians eventually evolved who called themselves the Keepers of the Myth. Their sole task was to ensure that whenever the reincarnations occurred, the Avatars would be able to fulfill their task and restore the balance of their disordered world.

All this, at least, is what the legends say, and as everyone knows, legends are not to be trusted. So let us leave these myths and legends of old behind and go to stories of the present age instead. And so our real story begins…

Once upon a time in a faraway world, in the northern forests of a pine-treed land, a golden-haired child was born in the Kingdom of Gillikin. She was born on the dawn of Midsummer’s Day, as beautiful and fair and much-awaited as the sun that reigned the summer sky. They named her Galinda and she was nothing like they had ever seen.

She grew up tall for a people already tall, and slender for a people already slim. Her flaxen hair grew straight where others’ curled and her eyes were blue with an amethyst shade. She was kind and gentle but seemed apart–something wise and weary in her solemn gaze. Like the Fairy Queen herself, the older people said, and sighed in memory of times long past.

And Galinda’s childhood years passed well this way, until she turned sixteen and was sent away to be educated in the city. Her people grieved and Galinda grieved (though the wild melancholy in her heart throbbed with a strange and new excitement). And so it was that Galinda of the House of Arduenna of Gillikin left her pine-treed land for the cobbled-stoned city of Shiz.

~~~~~

Shiz was strange and different and new, and Galinda loved its spires and towers and winding streets. Its people were kind, in a frenzied and frenetic way–though they all slowed down at the sight of the golden-haired girl. In Shiz, Galinda found herself besieged by admiring princes and dukes and earls and barons. Some were arrogant and conceited; others were earnest and sincere, but all of them, without exception, deferred to Galinda, who surpassed their nobility with a queenly grace. And as her circle of admirers grew, so did the throbbing loneliness in her heart.

Her father wrote her, pressing her to entertain suitors. She entertained them to suit her father, but found her heart unmoved.

And then one day, a few weeks before the start of school, she had run into an unruly mob bent pell-mell on tormenting some poor and unseen victim. And Galinda, who brooked no cruelty but disliked attention even more, had yelled that a policeman was coming, and when the crowd had dispersed, went in search of the bullies’ target.

It was a girl around her age, and she was kneeling on the street gathering her scattered belongings. Her face was obscured by her long raven hair, of a blackness that was nearly blue (a color so strange and marvelous to golden-haired Galinda that she longed to touch the stranger’s locks). Then the girl turned around and emerald eyes met Galinda’s amethyst ones, and in that moment Galinda gasped, for mirrored in those eyes was her same wild melancholy only thrown back at her with a greenish tinge.

“Are you alright?” Galinda asked.

The raven-haired girl nodded and when she stood up, she was as tall as Galinda if not slightly taller.

“Thank you,” she told Galinda, and Galinda noted the huskiness of her voice and the dignity of her gaze. She was the most beautiful creature Galinda had ever seen, with her raven hair, her emerald eyes and her pearly skin.

“What did they want from you?” Gazing at the stranger, Galinda could find no reason for the mob’s dislike.

The raven-haired girl shook her head. “I don’t know,” she replied quietly. Then she extended her hand and smiled. “My name’s Elphaba by the way.”

“And mine’s Galinda,” Galinda replied softly, taking the stranger’s hand.

“I’m indebted to you, Galinda.”  Their gazes locked, and for Galinda, it seemed that the world had contracted to those emerald eyes. Then a racing carriage clattered past and both girls jumped and laughed together at their mutual startledness.

“I have to go now,” Galinda spoke, removing her hand a shade reluctantly.

The raven-haired beauty nodded. “Thank you once again for the help.”

“Shall I be seeing you around?” Galinda asked.

“If you’re a student in this city like me, then likely yes.”

“I’ll be seeing you then, Elphaba,” Galinda said, then walked away. If anyone had looked at her carefully then, they would have wondered at her sudden radiance.

Once upon a time in a faraway world, in the southern pastures of a hillocked land, a raven-haired child was born in the Kingdom of Munchkinland. She was born on the dusk of Midwinter’s Night, as lovely and pale and much-dreaded as the moon that ruled the winter sky. They named her Elphaba and she was nothing like they had ever known.

She grew up tall amongst a people not known for length, and she grew up slim amongst a people far too known for breadth. Her ebony hair fell in graceful waves and her eyes were green with an emerald tinge. She was wild and headstrong and a world apart–something strange and fey in her piercing gaze. Like the Kumbric Witch herself, the older people said, and shuddered in memory of times long past.

But she was happy enough, despite her solitude. Though people feared her ill-omened birth and seemingly darkling ways, she never knew a moment of loneliness. For she had the love of her Nanny, who had the Gift of Sight and who told her that she would do great deeds, and that scorn and fear were merely the misguided reactions of people who did not understand. And besides Nanny, there were the creatures of the meadows too, who listened when she sang the strange and haunting harmonies that came to her in dreams. And when she sang, the flora swayed and the fauna stilled, and Elphaba would smile and sing yet another song, for the creatures of the fields were among her only friends.

And Elphaba’s childhood years passed well this way, until she turned sixteen and was sent away to be educated in the city. Her Nanny grieved and Elphaba grieved (though the great deeds of her future beckoned to her with a strange and alluring seduction). And so it was that Elphaba of the Line of Thropps of Munchkinland left her verdant hills for the stone gray city of Shiz.

~~~~~

Shiz was strange and different and new, but Elphaba yearned for her homeland’s fields and hedges and rolling hills. The Shiz were tolerant, in a wise and worldly way, but they turned hostile all the same at the sight of the raven-haired girl. In Shiz, as in Munchkinland, Elphaba found herself avoided, the natives of the city reacting like the Munchkins to the strange aura of her presence and the unsettling directness of her gaze. And Elphaba realized then how lonely solitude can be, when one didn’t have the love of one’s Nanny and the company of friends.

Her Nanny wrote her, advising her to take heart. She took strength from her Nanny’s words, but pined for her home all the same.

And then one day, just weeks before the start of school, on a day when she had been feeling stranger than usual–the forces that she could sometimes feel swirling in her bones had surged all of a sudden, making her skin take on an odd greenish tinge. People began to gather, and her strangeness and her aloofness combined to induce in them an immediate dislike. And they had crowded round and pushed her until finally she had stumbled and her things had scattered to the ground. And Elphaba, who disliked violence and knew the futility of confrontation, had felt a vague sense of panic, until a voice had yelled that a policeman was coming, and Elphaba had breathed a sigh of relief and begun collecting her crowd-strewn things.

Only when she finally looked up, she found herself being beheld by a pair of blue-violet eyes belonging to the loveliest creature she had ever seen. For a long breathless instant, the world stopped for Elphaba.

“Are you alright?” The golden-haired girl’s voice was a silver melody.

Elphaba could only nod her head. She could hardly remember what happened next–she was far too mesmerized–but she remembered taking the golden-haired girl’s hand, and feeling the strangest urge to bring that hand to her lips.

And then Galinda, for that was her rescuer’s name, had waved goodbye to her and left. And Elphaba was left wondering at the astounding stroke of good fortune that had not only saved her from a mob, but also possibly given her a friend.

Days passed and Galinda was kept busy, for preparations for university life were of a rigor she had not previously known. In the breaks between orientation sessions, she found herself waiting, hoping for a glimpse of the raven-haired girl. But it seemed they belonged to different groups with different timetables, for the squares and hallways revealed no sight of the green-eyed beauty.

And then one day, Galinda received a notice: a meeting was to be held amongst the residents of Crage Hall. 

“There’s been a terrible mix-up,” Pfannee, a fellow resident informed her. “The heir to the Eminency of Munchkinland is arriving, and there isn’t an apartment in the Hall left for her.”

“That’s not really the core of the trouble,” Pfannee’s friend, Shenshen, also a resident, butted in. “Nessarose Thropp could have stayed with Elphaba Thropp; they’re cousins after all. It’s just that there’s no love lost between their lines.”

“I wouldn’t stay with Elphaba Thropp,” Pfannee retorted, shuddering. “Cousin or no, one gets gooseflesh having her around.”

“Well, if Madame Morrible has her way, it’ll be Elphaba Thropp out on the street. I saw her talk to Elphaba once, and I don’t think the Madame’s too fond of her either.”

At this point, Galinda excused herself and walked away. It had been gossip and in other circumstances she would have left earlier, but the mention of Elphaba’s name had drawn her interest. She would not have guessed the tall girl to be a Munchkin; she defied her race’s physique on every count. But it seemed that Elphaba was not only a native—as a Thropp she was a member of Munchkinland’s ruling clan. Galinda was acquainted with Nessarose Thropp however. The Thropp First Descending and future ruler of Munchkinland was a petite and red-haired beauty. It had been years since they had last met though, and Galinda could not recall having been told of an internal rift among the Thropps.

Whatever the conflict was, however, it appeared that the raven-haired girl was in trouble.  With a small shake of her head, Galinda set off for the meeting room of Crage Hall.

~~~~~

By the time Elphaba arrived at the meeting hall, the room had already gotten quite full. Earlier that day, Madame Morrible, the Head Mistress of Shiz University’s Crage Hall, had informed her that there was some trouble concerning her apartment—something about “expecting a different Thropp”—but had said little beyond that. It was only when Elphaba saw the red-haired girl at the front of the room that she understood what the trouble was, and her heart sank.

“Ah,” Madame Morrible smiled at her thinly. “Here at last, Miss Elphaba. Now we can begin.”

“I called this meeting,” she said, addressing the room, “to resolve a dilemma concerning Crage Hall. There’s been some…confusion regarding one of the reservations, and the apartments that were intended for Miss Nessarose Thropp were unfortunately given to Miss Elphaba Thropp.”

“There has been no such confusion,” Elphaba spoke quietly. “My reservation was handled months in advance and reconfirmed twice.”

Elphaba clenched her jaw. There was no mistaking it; it was part of an effort to have her removed from Shiz–and to have her removed in as publicly humiliating a manner as possible. She wondered how much Nessarose’s father had paid to instigate all of it.

Miss Morrible had gone on addressing the room. “Is there any one amongst you here who would suffer the temporary…inconvenience of sheltering our dear Miss Elphaba?” She glanced lazily around the hall.

Elphaba knew the question was a farce; no one would raise their hand. Even if her presence didn’t evoke an inexplicable dislike amongst the other girls, the fact remained that no one would dare contest the wishes of the heir to the Eminency of Munchkinland. Elphaba glanced at her cousin’s face. The aristocratic features remained impassive and aloof.

A silvery voice broke the silence. “She can stay with me, if she wishes.”

The shock Elphaba felt was matched only by the surprise that suddenly displayed itself on her cousin’s face.  She turned round to trace the source of the voice–and found the same blonde beauty who had rescued her days before.

It was Galinda.

Madame Morrible opened her mouth but Galinda spoke before she did.

“She would be doing me a favor actually. I’ve recently discovered that I very much dislike living alone, and my father’s been far too occupied to find me a chaperone.” Then looking straight at Madame Morrible, she added. “The House of Arduenna would be very grateful.”

Elphaba blinked her surprise. She’d guessed from Galinda’s carriage that she was nobility, but she hadn’t anticipated meeting the daughter of the ruling House of Gillikin herself–or being rescued by her, for that matter.

“Well, now,” Madame Morrible faltered. “That’s very kind of you, Miss Galinda, but there’s really no knowing how long Miss Elphaba will have to stay. The search for lodgings here in Shiz once the term starts is terribly difficult. I wouldn’t dare impose on you for such an indefinite period…“

“Oh, I didn’t mean for Miss Elphaba to stay temporarily,” Galinda replied with a dazzling smile. “She can stay with me for as long as she wishes. My accommodations are really rather spacious.” Then turning to Elphaba, Galinda asked her directly.

“What do you think Miss Elphaba? Would you very much mind moving in with me? It would help me solve my own intractable dilemma.”

Elphaba looked at the golden-haired girl’s eyes. If she found pity there, she would decline and leave, much as she wanted to study in Shiz and defy the wishes of Nessarose’s family. But the amethyst eyes held only kindness–and just the slightest hint of mischief.

With a slight smile of her own, Elphaba nodded. “Only because it solves your…intractable dilemma, Miss Galinda, I accept your offer.”

Galinda beamed at the rest of the stunned room. “Well, that’s all taken care of then. I really must commend you, Madame Morrible, for convening this meeting. It appears that we’ve found collective solutions to collective problems.” Then she added brightly, “Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?”

Madame Morrible started. “Yes. That is, no.” Then continuing stiffly, she said. “The meeting is adjourned then.”

In the sudden rush of babbling voices and moving bodies, Elphaba sighed in relief for the first time since she had entered the room, and smiled.

~~~~~

In the quiet of the room that her estranged cousin had just recently vacated, Nessarose brooded.

The intervention by the daughter of the House of Arduenna had taken her aback–and had also reignited the hatred that had lain dormant for so long. Galinda had grown even lovelier since they had last met. But even more importantly, she had become as politically adept as her father–if her demonstration in the meeting hall earlier that day was any indication.

Not that Galinda had done what she did for political reasons. That, perhaps, was what Nessarose particularly despised about the golden-haired girl.  She didn’t hate Galinda for her beauty, for Nessarose possessed a cold, haughty loveliness of her own. Nor did she hate Galinda for what she stood to inherit, for while Galinda was only second in line to the crown of Gillikin, Nessarose was already the designated heir to her kingdom’s throne. No, what she hated about Galinda was her lack of interest in politics itself, or in worldly affairs in general, for that matter.

And today, Galinda had used her effortless competence to rescue Elphaba, and she had done it in a way that had made it seem as if Elphaba had rescued her. Nessarose’s mouth tightened in a grim line.

Her father was not going to be pleased.

“This is the second time you’ve rescued me.” Elphaba said by way of greeting.

Laughing, Galinda ushered her through the door and shook her head. “The gesture wasn’t entirely altruistic. As I shared quite candidly during the meeting, I’m not accustomed to living alone.”

Elphaba surveyed the apartment’s extensive proportions and silently conceded that its spaciousness did make solitude a daunting a prospect. “Still, a favor requited doesn’t annul the gratitude that’s owed.”

“I’ll accept your thanks—but only if you promise it to be the last of the formalities between us.” The merry warmth in the amethyst blue eyes immediately put Elphaba at ease.

“I promise,” she nodded and finally smiled.

“Excellent!” The blonde grinned. “Now, let me show you to your rooms.”

~~~~~

After several hours of being thoroughly settled in, Elphaba sank with weariness into the alcove that dominated a quarter of her room. The recess overlooked a private garden that recreated what she suspected was the arboreal landscape of Gillikin. Despite the apartment’s size, it was hardly ostentatious—everything had been appointed with an elegant and understated taste.

With a sweetness Elphaba had been unable to resist, Galinda had insisted on helping her unpack.

“This way, it’ll be easier for me to explain where things are and how things work,” she pointed out with beguiling pragmatism. As they worked through the afternoon, putting clothes into drawers and books onto shelves, Elphaba waited for what she felt was the inevitable question regarding her cousin’s usurpation of her rooms at Crage Hall. But Galinda said nothing of the matter, commenting with some amusement instead that Elphaba appeared to possess far more books than she did anything else.

As if to defuse any potential defensiveness her remark might provoke, Galinda added, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone before whose library rivals mine.”

“You enjoy reading?” Elphaba asked with a mix of curiosity and wonder. Back home in Munchkinland, her fascination with books had seemed yet another aberration—both a contributor to and a consolation for the isolation she perpetually felt.

“Very much,” Galinda smiled. “I left most of my collection at home in Gillikin, but you can help yourself to whatever I have here.” She paused for a moment and glanced at the clock. “Why don’t I show you the library now? We’re about due for a short break at any rate.”

Elphaba nodded and followed her hostess through a warren of rooms until they arrived at a beautiful solarium. The room was stunning enough in its own right—high ceilings framed crystal clear skylights shot through with the golden light of late afternoon. Breaking up the room’s expanse were pocket gardens and rockeries studded with tiny pools and waterfalls. In the room’s periphery, just beyond the reach of the sun’s fading rays, were shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books.

Elphaba gasped in pure pleasure. “I could stay here for the rest of my life!”

Galinda laughed. “You’re welcome to, if you’d like.”

Elphaba continued to survey the room in amazement. “Are all the other major wings of Crage Hall like this?”

Galinda paused for a moment to consider. “Some perhaps in size, all certainly not in design. Most of the dynasties of Oz possess permanent wings in Shiz University’s residence halls, and all of them will have been appointed in accordance with each family’s traditions and tastes.”

“And is it part of your family’s traditions to invite members of other houses to stay in these lodgings?” Elphaba asked with a hint of dryness.

“Not exactly,” Galinda smiled. “But it is part of Arduenna tradition to rescue and welcome beauty wherever we find it.” There was a gleam in the blue-violet eyes that brought an uncharacteristic warmth to Elphaba’s cheeks.

“Does indefatigable charm also constitute part of your customs?” Elphaba asked wryly.

Galinda laughed outright. “Only if refreshing candor constitutes one of yours.”

Elphaba chuckled. “My candor qualifies as a personal shortcoming rather than an ancestral value, I’m afraid. I was always upbraided for speaking my mind.”

"Pity,” Galinda frowned, arching an elegant eyebrow. “Especially when it’s a fine mind that speaks.”

“Your charm really is tireless, isn’t it?” Elphaba said admiringly. “How can you be so certain of the quality of my mind?”

“An intellect that can range over topics as diverse as art, geography, history, languages, music, philosophy and poetry can hardly be considered coarse,” Galinda replied drily, reminding Elphaba that the blonde had helped organize her book collection earlier that day after all. “Would your implacable modesty also happen to be one of your personal shortcomings or would it be an ancestral value in this case?”

“The former, I think, rather unfortunately for my house.” Elphaba laughed, conceding. Then looking at Galinda with an eyebrow raised, she added, “I should keep my wits about me when I’m with you. That charm of yours is enough to dull any mind, however sharp.”

“I’m not even trying to be charming, my dear Elphaba Thropp.” Galinda smiled beatifically before taking her arm. “I’m simply being candid.”

There was no doubt about it though, Elphaba reflected as she looked out onto the moonlit garden underneath her room. The princess of the House of Arduenna wasn’t so much indefatigably charming as she was utterly captivating. She didn’t know why the realization caused her to feel so much delightful unease.

It was, thought Fiyero, Crown Prince of the Tribe of Arjiki of Vinkus, an absolutely stunning fall day—perfect, if rather unfamiliar, weather with which to begin a hopefully perfect and entirely unfamiliar university career. Everything around him was strange and different and new and exhilaration lent an extra spring to his already agile step.

Although Fiyero loved his land fiercely, he was also acutely aware of its shortcomings. The sere plains and craggy mountains of his desert homeland had created a hardy and taciturn people who were suspicious of all things “dispensable”—higher education included. His father Tigelaar, however, had been an educated man—the first in their Tribe—and his experience of the wider world of Oz through the microcosm that Shiz had provided had created the conviction that the Vinkus’ path to greatness lay in both the edification and exposure university life offered.

It was also during his time at Shiz that Tigelaar had met Alaric—the current ruler of the Kingdom of Gillikin and the father of Avaric and Galinda Arduenna. Both men had hit it off right away, for Alaric had recognized the keen intellect that lay underneath Tigelaar’s seemingly barbaric Winkie exterior and Tigelaar had likewise understood the fierce ambition that burned beneath Alaric’s outwardly flippant Gillikin airs. That boyhood friendship had paved the way for the summers their children had spent at each other’s homes—visits that had grown in consequence after the premature death of Alaric’s young wife, for Fiyero’s mother had then assumed the role of maternal presence in Avaric’s and Galinda’s lives.

Thinking of Galinda made Fiyero smile. He remembered the first time he’d met her when they’d both been six years old. She and Avaric had stood out amongst the children of the Tribe with their fair hair and even fairer skin. Fiyero’s cousins had been a sturdy and rough-edged lot and they had ridiculed the Arduenna children for their slender and seemingly useless physiques. The eldest, Manek—already a bully at that tender age—had rattled his sabre threateningly at Galinda. Finding his initial taunts ignored, he had rapidly escalated his displays of violence, using his sword to drive Galinda against a wall. At that point, Galinda had glanced briefly at her older brother, who had then given her the tiniest of nods. In one startling instant, she’d pinioned Manek to the floor, one bony knee pressing against his sternum, while two pale and slender hands held the point of his sabre against his throat.

It was a demonstration none of the Winkie children ever forgot, and later on, when rumors of Galinda’s beauty and elegance began to filter through the ruling houses of Oz, Fiyero would smile thinking of the blonde-haired waif who not only beat them all soundly at swordplay, but outran and out climbed them as well.

“Is there anything she can’t do?” He had whined then as a sullen and envious eleven-year old to fifteen-year old Avaric. Galinda’s older brother had simply laughed. “Well, she can’t hold grudges for one—which is a fortunate thing for Manek.”

He stopped sulking when after an unusual absence of three years, he saw Galinda again when they were both fourteen. The golden-haired vision who’d descended from the carriage had stopped all the Winkie boys in their tracks, including Manek. She’d always been a pretty child, but at fourteen, she’d shed all the vestiges of prettiness to assume a stunning and almost otherworldly beauty.

That was when it occurred to Fiyero that perhaps he could marry Galinda one day. It took a great deal of courage on his part, but when he finally brought up the subject with his father, Tigelaar had heartily laughed.

“Took you long enough to conceive the notion,” his father had snorted. “I was beginning to get concerned.” Tigelaar had warned him quickly, however. “There are no guarantees. Alaric likes you well enough, but he’ll never settle for anything less than the best possible match for a daughter such as his.”

With that as his goad, Fiyero took to his studies with newfound vigor. Although he bested his peers intellectually and athletically, it occurred to him at that point that he could no longer afford to benchmark his worth against the nobility of Vinkus. All the princes of Oz would press for Galinda’s hand in marriage and he would have to beat them all.

So with a zeal that surprised even his father, Fiyero doubled the time he spent training in fencing, archery and riding. In his spare time he read extensively, focusing on the subjects whose mastery he thought would impress his prospective father-in-law the most.

And so it was that the remainder of Fiyero’s childhood passed well this way, until he turned sixteen and was sent away to be educated in the city. His father had beamed while his mother had wept, and with the absence of ceremony characteristic of his people, Fiyero of the Tribe of Arjiki of Vinkus left his sun scorched land for the shade-dappled city of Shiz.

Now, the first day of university life had finally arrived, and Fiyero found himself almost running in excitement. The day was to begin with an Assembly of all the First Year Students, and he was sure to see Galinda there. Slowing down his pace as he arrived at the Main Square, he found the space populated by a staggeringly large number of people his age.

Fiyero blinked. His years in the sparsely populated Vinkus had not readied him for such throngs, and he wondered with some dismay as to how he could possibly locate Galinda amidst the swarm. Then a ripple of movement to his far right caught his attention, and as if his consternation had conjured her presence, he suddenly beheld the Gillikin princess, the horde parting deferentially—if not reverentially—as she made her way through the throng. Fiyero shook his head and grinned. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. Then shouldering his way through the pack, he managed to plant himself in Galinda’s path, whereupon he lay his right fist upon his heart and angled his head downward in a Winkie bow. “Even in a crowd such as this, filled with the noblest and fairest of Oz, you manage to stand out surpassingly, Lady Galinda Arduenna.”

“Fiyero!” She laughed and kissed him thrice—twice on one cheek and once on another—in a gesture the Gillikin reserved for the most intimate of family and friends. The affection with which Galinda greeted him was enough to earn him the ire and envy of a good portion of the watching crowd. “One merely gravitates to the familiar in the midst of the unknown, my dear Arjiki prince,” she said, shaking her head with a smile, “and the greater the unknown, the more seemingly alluring the familiar.” 

“Modest, as always,” Fiyero chuckled, though he belatedly realized that Galinda’s tactful reply had recontextualized his verbal slight of Oz’s noblest and fairest.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Galinda suddenly exclaimed. Then gesturing to the girl on her right—Fiyero hadn’t even noticed she’d had a companion—she made the introductions. 

“Fiyero, allow me to present Elphaba of the Line of Thropps of Munchkinland and the Thropp Second Descending. Elphaba, this is Fiyero of the Tribe of Arjiki of Vinkus, the Crown Prince of his house and a friend of mine from years long past.”

Fiyero turned to the girl named Elphaba, and when her emerald eyes locked with his hazel ones, he felt something in his chest unaccountably constrict. Apart from Galinda, she was, quite possibly, the most beautiful creature Fiyero had ever seen, with her raven hair, her viridescent eyes and her translucent skin. 

She nodded at him—from across countless miles it seemed—and murmured with the hint of a smile, “A pleasure to meet you, Crown Prince Fiyero.”

Then the Headmaster had called for all the first year students’ attention, and as their company parted in the midst of the scrambling crowd, it occurred to Fiyero that on the very first day of his career in university, the trajectory of his life had somehow irrevocably changed.

Miranda Morrible liked to think of herself as a practical and professional creature, a woman able to divide the realms of her public and private lives so that one remained foreign and unassailable territory to the other. When it came to the young Elphaba Thropp, however, Madame Morrible found that both the personal and the professional converged—with objectionable consequences for both.

Her mandate from the Wizard, who ruled from the Emerald City of Oz, was “to mold the characters of youthful Ozians who would one day determine the destiny of their world.” Included in this directive was the unspoken instruction to win young and susceptible minds to the Wizard’s veiled totalitarian cause—and to take note of those who proved intractable so they could be “neutralized” later on. As Headmistress of Crage Hall, Madame Morrible had dominion over the budding female aristocracy of Oz, and through these young women, an excellent vantage point from which to observe the male half of Oz’s up-and-coming nobility. It was, in all respects, one of the best possible positions to influence the future politics of the Four Kingdoms, and the Wizard had granted it to her for all her years of grim and dedicated service.

In the presence of Elphaba Thropp, however, she found it exceedingly difficult to carry out her charge with her customary dispassion. The features of Frexspar Godly were discernible enough in his daughter’s emerald eyes and elegant cheekbones, and Madame Morrible could barely stomach these reminders of the man who’d broken her heart so callously and bitterly, and in a way, set her on the path that had led her to the Wizard.

Elphaba Thropp’s father had been a darkly compelling figure—a charismatic Unionist minister whose handsome face and impassioned words had won the hearts (and stirred the loins) of men and women alike to the altar of his Unknown God. A young Madame Morrible had been one of his most ardent converts, and she had served for years in his church before he managed to turn the head of the younger sister of the Eminency of Munchkinland. Melena Thropp had been the most eligible woman in Munchkinland then, and she had ignored both the pleas of her friends and the threats of her family to marry the lowly Frexspar Godly. It was a union that earned Melena her brother’s withering contempt and Frexspar Madame Morrible’s implacable hatred.

In the end, however, Frexspar had left Melena too, unable to refuse the summons of his terrible and Unnamed God. The last Madame Morrible had heard, he’d disappeared into the swamps of Quadling Kingdom, deep in the south of Oz, abandoning aristocratic wife and infant daughter for the clarion call of fundamentalist religion.

If she could have set aside her bitter dislike, Madame Morrible could have recruited Elphaba Thropp to the Wizard’s fascist cause. The girl possessed a rare combination of aristocratic blood, arresting looks and keen intelligence—qualities that even on their own could be readily marshaled to further the Wizard’s aims. But the hostility generated by heartbreak rose too quickly to the surface, and in the end, Madame Morrible justified her disqualification of Elphaba Thropp with the assurance that she had more than enough promising material in the figures of Nessarose Thropp and Galinda Arduenna.

Nessarose Thropp, of all of Madame Morrible’s possible candidates, presented the figure closest to the ideal. Not only was the girl the designated heir to her kingdom’s throne, but she possessed an abundance of ambition rare to find in one so young. In Madame Morrible’s experience, ambition was the easiest of all keys to turn, and a puppet ruler in the Kingdom of Munchkinland meant that at least a quarter of Oz would be secure.

Galinda Arduenna, on the other hand, was a far more problematic figure simply because the girl presented an utter enigma. What indeed, Madame Morrible thought, could motivate a girl who had everything that every woman could possibly desire? Although the question of motivation was crucial, and one that Madame Morrible had yet to begin to unravel, it made sense to recruit the Princess of the House of Arduenna so early in her career, especially given her family’s rule over the Upland Kingdom of Gillikin. Besides, Madame Morrible reasoned, it was always easier to dispose of a defective product later on than to lose the opportunity to mold it early in its making. 

At any rate, Elphaba Thropp’s own choices had determined her future, for she had signed up for several courses under the eminent Animal biologist, Dr. Dale Dillamond. The Goat was brilliant, Madame Morrible had to admit, but there was no room for Animals in the world the Wizard desired to create. It was only a matter of time before the pogroms conducted so clandestinely in various parts of Oz could finally be carried out in the broad light of day. Propagating the ideas that would make that day arrive sooner rather than later was part of Madame Morrible’s directive as well. Young Elphaba Thropp’s association with one of the leading Animals of the day would only result in her inclusion in their eventual demise. At the thought, a frightening smile ghosted across Madame Morrible’s lips. Frexspar Godly’s Unnamed God may have saved him from the fate he deserved, but his daughter would someday answer for his sins seven times seven.